


The Mouth that Speaks Red

by TheDweeb



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Garleans (Final Fantasy XIV), Gun Violence, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 10:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDweeb/pseuds/TheDweeb
Summary: Violence begets more of the same (an eye for an eye), but he isn't blind yet. Together they'll paint the town and one day they'll fall together. Today is not that day. Today is a great day to kill, not to die.





	The Mouth that Speaks Red

The sounds of battle raged throughout the streets of Ala Mhigo. Members of the Alliance fought alongside the Ala Mhigan Resistance against their mutual enemy of Garlemald. Garlemald, whose army was like a mass of gleaming insects swarming over the land, whose numbers never seemed to fall as they conscripted more subjugated peoples into the hive. It seemed a pointless endeavor but then, he had always enjoyed when they struggled until the end.

Boguslaw prowled the Ala Mhigan streets on foot, his motorcycle having been abandoned in an alleyway, with a serene expression on his face. Blood painted his mouth and neck, dripping from his chin onto his chest and staining the gray hair on his chest red. His hands were just as coated, his knives having been sheathed once the first taste of blood had hit his tongue, but he was either unaware of it or he did not care. He was there to fight, to honor a contract, and if he ended up sating his bloodlust in the process then he had no complaints. 

A snarling cry--”Die, Savages!”--rang from his right side and he took a quick step forward and to the left. The low whistle of a sword cutting air greeted him and alerted him to the soldier’s position. Flames crackled to life in his right hand as he drew upon the latent aether around him. A quick swipe sent the fireball hurtling point blank into the soldier and the shrill scream of pain that resulted from the hit twisted his lips into a sadistic smile. It seemed logical to have flame retardant uniforms when your entire military depended on the use of a substance as flammable as ceruleum, but then why waste valuable resources on the cannon fodder? Were Boguslaw a man prone to pity he might have spared some toward the burning soldier. Instead he slung a ball of ice into the man’s chest then stalked away as the momentum of the spell slammed the man into the wall.

A quick glance over his left shoulder showed that he was not being followed by the burning man and he frowned, disappointed. He was nowhere near as competent in thaumaturgy as his younger brother, yet it was enough to lay a single soldier low. Too green, not worth whetting his teeth on; a waste of time. The lack of a proper challenge from the Garleans was beginning to make his jaw ache and a low, rumbling growl began deep in his chest while his tail twitched menacingly. His patience was wearing thin and that was when he became his most dangerous.

Before he could lash out at the closest warm body--friend or foe--he heard a familiar laugh. His first instinct was to look up and a manic grin spread across his face as his instincts proved right. Above him was another Garlean, this one not clad in their uniform and with his face bare, his pearl-like third eye visible to the world. His dark hair was drenched with sweat but the icy blue of his eyes were hard and glittering as he laughed again before kicking a prone soldier off the rooftop they had been sharing. It was not a joyful sound, but cold and vindictive. Snipe did not generally take pleasure in killing; his marksmanship was a finely honed talent that he used to make money, nothing more. Glancing at the broken body that lay on the street like a lifeless marionette whose strings had been cut, Boguslaw wondered for a moment just who they had been to elicit such a reaction from his partner.

“Heads up, Cyclops!” came the familiar call, and he turned just in time to catch the hand of a Garlean soldier with his face.

A joyful cackle escaped him as he was thrown off his feet. He recovered quickly, twisting his body mid-air so that he landed crouched on both feet with one hand bracing against the ground. They had not even come from his blind side that time. He had been too distracted. It would not happen again. 

The Garlean Secutor wasted no time in allowing him to regain his footing and ran forward to deliver a heel to his face. Rather than rely on his reflexes, Boguslaw rolled forward under the soldier's foot and into their leg. As soon as their back hit the stone street he was upon them, bearing his full weight on their torso. One arm was pinned at their side, trapped by his thigh, and the other was already hurtling toward his face for another punch. He took the blow with his right cheek, the scar tissue from his burn being largely numb to any pain and the eye being useless anyway, then he grabbed their arm in a bruising grip before leaning down with a leering grin.

“Nice try,” he purred before he dove forward and sunk his teeth into the soldier's neck.

Their scream was cut abruptly short as Boguslaw twisted his head to the tune of a satisfying crunch. Fresh blood painted his mouth as he pulled away with a rumbling purr of satisfaction. Were he not in the middle of a war zone he might have taken the time to savor his work, but the nature of this job required speed of execution. That was why he was quick to rise, the body below him promptly forgotten, but when he turned again he was met not with a soldier moving toward him but Snipe, still and silent; watching him. His ears swiveled toward his partner, his single yellow eye sharp and gleaming as he watched Snipe raise his gun at him. Rather than immediately attack, however, he merely watched and waited, a smile waiting to curl the edges of his mouth. Would he actually try to put him down?

His answer came in the form of a muffled crack and the feeling of high speed metal whizzing past his cheek. The sting of hot lead barely registered as he glanced over his shoulder to see another soldier fall. He had allowed himself to get distracted again. Rather than be upset about it he smiled instead before slowly stalking forward. Reaching out with one massive, bloody paw, he snagged the front of Snipe's shirt and dragged him to his chest while his other hand moved into his hair to roughly tug his head back. Then he kissed him, plundering his mouth like a thief; almost as if he sought to devour him instead.

The fighting had not stopped, yet no one seemed inclined to disturb either man. And when Boguslaw finally released him he then took the time to finally admire his work, purring in delight at the dark streaks of red that stained the pale white skin of his partner. His purr turned to a dark chuckle as his bottom lip was bitten in retaliation which only fueled the fire that had been started. He then pulled Snipe closer, wedging a knee between his thighs and pressing it against his groin as he tugged harder on his hair before diving in for another devouring kiss. Snipe’s hand that was not holding his gun reached up to dig rough fingernails into his chest and Boguslaw purred into his mouth. When he let him go again, lapping at his lips before standing at full height, he grinned lasciviously as Snipe dug his nails in harder and pulled at the hair on his chest.

“You're a sick bastard,” he spat.

“Sticks and stones. But what does that make you?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Laughing at the non answer, Boguslaw released him when he pulled away. He knew the answer, they both did, and when the day was over he would have another throat in his teeth. That Snipe would present it to him willingly sent a thrill through him, as it often did, and until then he would continue to paint the town--the streets, himself, and Snipe again if he let him--red.

**Author's Note:**

> Valtristus and I have translated almost all of our OCs into the FFXIV universe, and these two murdering assholes are near and dear to our hearts.


End file.
